A Shocking Discovery
by TimeTravelingGirl330
Summary: Alfred F. Jones has to rescue a drunk Iggy ... Or at least who he thinks to be drunk. But what does he find once he gets there? UsUk. Rated T for language and themes implied in the end. Fluff and a little bit of suspense.


Disclaimer - I do not own Hetalia. If I did, I would be god. But sadly, I am no such thing. This is only for entertainment purposes. In no way do I do this for any profit or anything ... Not like I really would, but still ...

Anime - Hetalia~~! ^w^

Pairings - UsUk (America X England) or (Alfred x Arthur)

It's not really about the pairing (I promise, more fanfics of mine will include that), but it involves the two in a cute little scene or two. ^w^

* * *

**Scene I**

Alfred didn't know what to expect, really. Arthur rarely ever invited him over to his house anymore. And usually it wasn't a very good sign of something good. Looking back at it, he vaguely remembered the house. But those faded memories soon returned as soon as he stepped foot into the warm home of the Brit. All those happy memories the two had had. But also all the arguments the two had been unfortunate to have. It sent a shudder down his spine at the bitter-sweet remembrance.

When he had first got the call from Arthur, he had been a little shocked. Why would he, out of all other people, want _him_ to come to his house? True, it wasn't like the British man was very popular or had many friends. But why didn't he just go bother Francis or someone else, like Kiku, perhaps? But no. He had called his sorry arse to his house. Just as he was beating some sorry zombie's arse in Call of Duty: Black Ops.

"Alfred? Are you home?"

"DIE YOU FREAKING UN-DEAD SICKOS! Huh? Oh! Yeah, I'm home, Arthur. Is something wrong?"

'Cause he was _kind of_ in the middle of kicking zombie arse at the moment! And whatever it was had to be _really_ important to interrupt his Call of Duty time! A long pause came from the other line of the phone, along with a small scuffle of papers.

"C-Can you come over here?" came a small grunt from the other line.

This got /some/ of the American's attention. Just /some/.

"Yo, Artie, dude. You okay over there?"

Alfred could have sworn he heard something being knocked down from the other side of the line. Oh great. He was drunk once again. Maybe he was calling to let him know about it, just so he could fly over and help him recover. Well at least he hadn't called Francis. Otherwise, he'd probably be somewhere a lot worse than probably in his home at the moment…

"C-Can you just come over here, A-Americaaaa….-" Arthur slurred as Alfred heard the Brit slump to the floor.

Great… Just great… He _really_ needed to deal with a drunken British man on this _lovely_ day. And just as he was about to unleash the attack dogs! He heard the phone disconnect on the other line as Alfred let out a low sigh as he decided to hang up the phone as well. Man, he _really_ didn't want to have to get away from his Xbox right now. Why couldn't Arthur have gotten drunk tomorrow, or something? Or even better, not at all? But no. He had to be the Hero and go save him.

"Sorry, Zombies. But your butts are just going to have to wait to be kicked until I get back."

Without another word, he put the game on pause with a weary expression on his face. True, he loved being the Hero. But why did he always have to save an old man who would never learn when to put down a bottle of gin? He got up from his comfortable spot on the couch, oh how he would miss that oh so comfortable spot, and went to the Xbox, turning it off. He raked a hand exasperatedly though his hair, his cowlick forever sticking up as always.

"Well. I guess I'm off to England." he said.

Without another word, he went over to his bedroom and got out of his sweatpants and long-sleeved tee-shirt and put on some jeans and a clean white tee-shirt as he walked over to his closet to grab his favorite bombers jacket and some shoes. Feeling the comforting leather jacket around him, he let loose a small smile. Something about that jacket always made him seem at ease when he was troubled.

'Maybe helping Arthur won't be _that_ bad after all…' He thought as he grabbed his keys and walked out the front door.

Boy, did he know what he was getting himself into …

* * *

Scene II

The ride to England hadn't been that bad. Since Alfred had gone across the Atlantic on a daily basis, he was accustomed with the procedures that he would have to endure on the flight. And it also helped that by now a lot of the crew members remembered him to be a frequent flyer and sent him on the same plane all the time. He was glad for this. Most of the crew he had gotten acquainted with nicely. Sarah would always make small talk with him while she handed other passengers bags of peanuts or refreshments of some sort from her cart.

Martin would give him a tip of his hat every time he passed down the aisle of the plane to deal with a passenger's need. And sweet little Jillian was always too busy to pay attention to him while she tended to other matters on the plane. But when she did, she tried her best to act polite and give a small wave, or smile in return before busying herself with more work. So in truth, the plan ride itself was more or less like seeing old friends again.

It made the trip going to England a little better for him. After finally getting himself situated and off the plan, he walked out of the airport, and went to go get his rented car he had called in earlier. Walking about half a mile or so from the airport, he quickly got the keys and headed his car toward Arthur's house. God! Stupid Brits and their 'Driving on the left side of the road' thing! Why couldn't they just drive of the right, for god sakes! But then again … This was England he was talking about. Nothing was ever made easy.

About an hour later, he arrived at the familiar Kirkland household. In a way, you could almost say it resembled the Buckingham Palace in a way. Well, Arthur did help design it … So it was only natural that he design his house in a way that he thinks the best. The exterior of the Kirkland house almost looked like a mansion, with it's marble stone coating. Bushes surrounded the bottom of the house just below the windows, with bright red roses just getting into bloom, complemented with a red brass front door. And of course, a British Union-Jack was hanging on a wall next to the front door.

'Guess he really loves his Queen…' he thought to himself.

Alfred stood outside the brass doors to the Kirkland house for a moment, thinking about what he would find once he got in there. God, would Arthur be so drunk as to be lying upside down on the stairs, wearing a bunny suit? Don't laugh! That actually happened! … And Alfred _won't_ admit to not having a few pictures … Just for black-mail moments, if he needed it, of course … Or if he just wanted to have a good laugh. Another thought popped into his head. What is Arthur was actually hurt … What if something happened while he was drunk … No. Nothing bad like that ever happened when he was drunk. The only thing bad that usually happened was that he'd start yelling, and be the terrible drunk that he was. But just to make sure, he opened the doors and stepped inside.

"Yo, Artie! Dude, I'm here!" He yelled as he entered the empty home.

He closed the creaking door behind him. The footsteps he left on the hardwood floor made an eerie creak as he walked into the living room of the Brit's home, hoping to find him in there. He walked into the room and was overcome with darkness. It seemed as if everything was hiding itself from him. Including Arthur. The Victorian style furniture only revealed itself to him when he turned on the light.

'Wow. The Old Man never changed, did he?'

He chuckled a bit as he admired the Old Brit's choice in decor. He had a crimson love-seat and agolden coloured couch, followed by a matching golden rimmed coffee table with everything he needed for his afternoon cup of tea. Same old Arthur. But no Arthur here. Alfred turned his head to look at the grandfather clock he had mounted on the far side of the wall. 8:35 p.m.

"Arthur? Where are you, dude?" he asked, his echo filled the house as he stepped out of the living room and onto the foyer. "Arthur? Come on, dude. This is no time to play hide-and-seek! Let's just get you sober so I can leave, alright?"

Still no response. He glances around the now mysteriously creepy house, as almost everything was cast in extreme darkness. Strangely, it reminded him of some of the horror films he would watch with Kiku sometimes. Then realization hit him

"Oh hell no. ARTHUR! Dude! This is not freaking funny! You ain't scaring me!" He hollered.

Still nothing answered him. Now sure that this was all a prank Arthur had set up, he marched over into the kitchen to catch him in the act. 'Cause that's where you would usually find the villain. Boiling a bunch of rotten things, or torturing a victim or something like that. No way was he going to let the Old Man scare him! … Again … He flicked on the lights, ready to see Arthur making something or snickering in the background. But no. Pots and cauldrons, vials and vases filled the counter-tops and tables. Along with the smell of chemicals and various potions that also filled the counter tops. Some boiling while other were strewn across the floor. If this was Artie's lame attempt to scare him, it really wasn't working. He was a Hero. Nothing as stupid as a creepy looking kitchen was going to scare him!

"Haha. Very funny, Arthur. Jokes over!"

His blue eyes surveyed the messy kitchen, seeing spell books open, utensils covered with mysterious liquid. And honestly , he didn't even want to know what was bubbling in some of the cauldrons. He could have sworn he could smell something dead in one of them. His body started to momentarily shiver at the sight of it all. Okay … Maybe it creeped him out _a little_. Be he was the Hero! He shouldn't be scared of anything! Trying to regain his Hero-like posture, he turned away from the kitchen, only to hear a loud thud come from upstairs. His heart beat quickened as he heard the strange noise. Running out onto the foyer again, he turned a sharp left and quickly ran upstairs to investigate what the strange noise had been.

"Artie? That you?"

Why the hell had he ask that stupid question? Had he /not/ learned anything from those horror movies? You _never_ ask that! Then the freaking evil dude would come out with his chainsaw of death and chop you up into little pieces until you were freaking dead! Dude … He was _really_ sucking at being the Hero today. A low grumble came from one of the rooms along with the sound of furniture being moved. He saw a light flicker on and off as he got closer to the only door on the floor that was ajar. The figure in the room moved slowly inside the room as he approached it. He could hear the ruffling of papers and more furniture being moved. Alfred paused nervously outside the room, taking a deep breath. His nervousness coursed through him as he debated whether or not he should be the Hero or not and go see what was in there or not. But the obvious choice had to be taken. He never would /not/ turn down being a Hero.

You never knew what could be going on in the room, and it would be his fault if he didn't go in there and check it out. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he dared to peer into the room, opening the door as it creaked eerily. The room looked as if it had gone through both World Wars. The walls that were usually clean and a light shade of blue, were torn up and had painting tilted on their hangers, random papers tapped onto the walls. Most of the chairs were places at different points of the room, either turned upside down or on its side. The only thing that looked the most intact with Arthur's dark brown oak desk. Sure, papers, books, and random bottles were on-top of it, but it was the only thing in the room that didn't look like it had gone through a shredder. The couch had a few large gashes through its center and the coffee table had been pushed against the wall, a large hole in the center of it. Most of Arthur's books were scattered on the floor in a large circle, a purple liquid staining just about everything in sight. It creeped Alfred out.

"A-Arthur … Dude?" Taking another deep but shaky breathe, he entered the room to see for himself if he was in there.

The only thing that answered him this time, was a low grumble from somewhere in the room.

"C'mon dude, stop p-playing around!" He said, trying to keep his stuttering to a minimum, cause you know, a Hero never shows weakness.

A small lump moved a bit on the floor a few feet away from the closet. It too, was covered in the strange purple liquid. But the thing Alfred noticed on it was the shaggy blonde hair that was connected to the lump. A smile of relief grew on his features as he nearly ran to the Brit's side.

"ARTHUR! DUDE! I thought you were dude, for reals! Don't scare me like that!" He said happily, holding the surprisingly light Brit in his arms.

"Yo, did you like lose some weight, bro?" He asked, turning the Brit's head so that he could see his face.

Until he realized he wasn't looking at a face. A bright orange basketball was in its place. The lump he was holding in his arms wasn't Arthur at all. Yes, the suit was his, but that was probably the only thing that was. The basketball had been placed on the shoulder's of the suit, a blonde wig fixated upon the ball to make it look as if it really were Arthur. Alfred's heart dropped at the realization.

"Oh come on! Dude! Arthur? Where are you?!" He yelled in aggravation as he dropped the empty suit, letting the basketball roll across the floor.

Alfred's eyes gazed around the room, trying to find something that might let him know where the Old Man might be. If purple liquid could talk, that would be really helpful! He would have gone over by the books Arthur had, but honestly all that stuff was nonsense, even Alfred couldn't read if he tried. With a slow sigh, he got up from where he had crouched down to and went over to Arthur's desk, reading some of the papers to try to figure out where he might be. But most of the papers were covered with the stupid purple liquid! Dam*it! What the hell was this stuff anyways?! A rustle came from the closet a few feet from where the decoy Arthur had been. Adrenaline coursed through Alfred's veins as he saw the door creak slightly. He looked around for something to protect himself with, settling for a broom Arthur had left by the front door. Yeah … By the likes of this mess, it would take more than a tiny little broom to fix it all. Gripping it tightly, he inched closer and closer to the closet door, prepared for the worst.

'Don't be afraid… You're the Hero. Don't be afraid… You're the Hero.' He thought to himself.

With his free hand, he opened the door slowly to reveal what was actually behind it, ready to hit the thing with his broom. When something shocked him to his core. Honestly, he had expected it to be Arthur, tied up with ropes, trying to get free from the closet. But it was … Something he really didn't expect.

"… What the hell did you do …?"

There was a long pause, before the small figure in the closet got up the courage to yell up at him.

"It's nwot what it wooks wike!"

* * *

Author's Note -

I'm sorry. This is my first fanfiction that I am publishing. I promise that I will upload some things that are actually good... I wrote this late at night for a page that I run, so that's why it has a sort of sucky ending. If you would like, please give me some feed-back on the story, like it, rate it, comment! Anything! Please and thank you! I hope to upload some better things in the future.


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